


Meadoscrewan Aefter Symbeldage

by grayspider1974



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-06 23:45:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8774416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grayspider1974/pseuds/grayspider1974
Summary: In which an overweight, alcoholic thirty-something Bjorn contends with a new wife and political strife, and Floki faces the fact that he is no longer young.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "Meadoscrewan" is a Saxon word which literally means "to be deprived of mead" and was used to denote "woe or horror." "Meadoscrewan aefter Symbeldage" denoted "a rude awakening after joy" (e.g: waking up with one's dignity and/or underwear either soiled or missing, and discovering that all the mead has been consumed) The appropriate comment to make in such a situation is ""That waes biter beorthage!"  
> Also, the fact that Bjorn's family did not arrange an appropriate marriage for him BEFORE he knocked up the help is something of an anachronism!  
> In the Galenic system of medicine (as in modern Aruveda) spices such as cinnamon and pepper were believed to have a stimulating and cheering effect on the "melancholic" type, but they were also used as aphrodisiacs....in moderation, of course!

"Bjorn...hey Big Guy..." said Kyllykylli Taapiolan, "You haven't moved for the past hour, and it's freezing out here...  
The figure that sat wrapped in a bearskin at the end of the pier did not move.  
"BJORN!" shouted Kylli "ARE YOU ALIVE?"   
Bjorn Ragnarsson, also known as Ironsides and One Big Son of a Bitch raised his head. He had rime forming on his eyelashes and in his beard.  
"You'd better come inside before bits of you start to turn black and fall off," said Kylli. "Queen Asslaug eventually simmered down and went to bed."  
"Neh!" Bjorn grunted. He stuck out a hand from under the bearskin and waggled his fingers, which were unusually slim and graceful for those of a man who was built like the original stone privy, and his fingernails were meticulously groomed. His hands bore no sign of frostbite.  
"I think she had a point," said Kylli. "You need to remarry. People are starting to talk, and well...you are your father's heir. If the line were to pass to one of your half-brothers, people would revolt."  
Bjorn shook his head, causing the icicles that had formed in his hair to tinkle. "I'm not marrying my own stepmother. I'm pretty sure that constitutes incest."  
"Technically speaking, it does not.  
"Well, she's a bitch, and I think she's responsible for Little Sigi's death. What sort of woman leaves a six-year-old girl alone like that?"  
"One who downs more hooch than you do," said Kylli. "and feels betrayed by your father, who may have been a great warrior, but an obnoxious pig of a husband. I think she sees you as her last chance at keeping her power, Bjorn, because she used her minge to get it before and has not thought up a better tactic, so she does what she's done since she was fifteen years old even though she is past forty. How old is Asslaug, anyway?"   
"She's forty-five, but she'll happily murder anyone who says she looks a day over thirty."  
"I pity her," said Kylli.  
"I don't" said Bjorn. His big hand snaked out and grabbed Kylli's, which seemed no bigger than that of a child in his grip. "Hey, you're the one who's going to get frostbite, Kylli. And...can I talk to Little Sigi? Like we tried the last time?"  
"No, Bjorn. Lat time, Jarl Borg took over and made me punch you in the face. I chipped one of your teeth!"  
"You also shouted 'that's for porking my wife, buckethead!"" Bjorn grinned "By the way, Torvig too up with Nate. I think Jarl Borg would have a fit if he knew."   
"He does," said Kylli. "And so does her second husband, the one she shot. If you don't mind my saying so, Norse women go through husbands like I go through shoes. Exactly how do you people survive?"  
"Feh!" said Bjorn "We pork a lot, and we breed fast."  
Kylli gently tugged the end of Bjorn's braid. "Speaking of breeding..." had he been standing, Kylli's head would have been level with Bjorn's armpit, but now they were at eye level, and when she suddenly leaned in and kissed him her mouth tasted of wine and spices.   
Bjorn stood up. "You're drunk, Kylli."  
She giggled and nodded. "I finished off the mulled wine after Queen Horseface went to bed, and now I want to climb you like a tree!" Kyllikylli could drink a lot...in fact, Bjorn had seen the little Suomi drink Norse warriors three times her size under the table. Normally Bjorn found her amusing when drunk, though she irritated Queen Asslaug...but Kylli had never before offered to climb him like a tree, and he did not like it.  
"Just leave me alone, Kylli" he said. "You're too drunk and so am I."  
"No I'm not and not, and neither are you," said Kylli "unless you've been out here too long and got a chilly willy."  
Bjorn gave his friend what was meant to be a gentle shove, but he erred in judgement and sent her toppling backwards off the end of the pier. Kylli let out a blood-curdling screech as she smashed through the thin glaze of ice that had formed on to of the fjord, and sea water sizzled . Several stunned fish floated to the surface as Kylli strod water and yelled "Pull me out before I succumb to hypothermia, buckethead!" Bjorn shrugged, and went to get an oar, because he was certain that Kylli would blitz him if he tried to pull her out barehanded.  
"Did that cool you off?" he asked.  
Kylli snarled, and shook her wet hair at him. "Grab that sturgeon that's floating around. She's a female, and I think she's got eggs."   
Bjorn stooped, and grabbed the fish by its tail. It was bigger than Kylli. "Go fire up the sauna, Kylli." he said. "I'll talk to you after breakfast."

"Nice fish," said Nate, the Belligerent Butcher of Byzantium. "Did you catch it?"  
"Kylli did, " said Bjorn. "She got tanked and tried to climb me like a tree, so I tossed her in the fjord."  
"The screams woke me out of a sound sleep. I must have put too much cinnamon in the mulled wine. Cinnamon is good for you melancholy types, but it fires up sanguine people, especially the women."  
"More like too much wine in the Kylli," said Bjorn.  
"And possibly too much in the Bjorn, too." said Nate. "You should cut back on the hooch, Boss. I myself don't drink much because it can...fell a man's tree, so to speak." Nate suddenly broke off and swatted a fluffy white shape that had jumped up on the table. "Fuck you, you stupid cat!" The feline hissed, and darted off. "Getting that cat fwas a stupid idea. Now you're up to your funny-looking ears in pussies, and NOT the kind that you like. That beast is a menace!" The cat had come from the shores of Lake Van, and had been intended as a present for his daughter, but Bjorn had returned to find his daughter had fallen from a bridge and drowned. As such, he had suspended the building of Kattegat's first church and ordered that the materials be used to build a sturdier bridge. As such, they had a fine new bridge and a pair of cranky missionaries from Caledonia holding forth in a tent every Sunday. Bjorn really rather liked the Tir Manannan Twins, but they could be difficult to deal with. Aethelstan, for all his faults, had been reletively meek and inoffensive, whereas if George and Lucas had been Norse instead of Scots they would have been berserkers. They had grown up on an island that they themselves described as "a frozen wart on Satan's arse" and it had made them into a pair of holy hooligans to whom "turning the other cheek" meant telling one's detractors to kiss one's arse. They were a force to be reckoned with when they were on the job, and in their off hours they drank, swore, played he bagpipes badly, made frequent attempts to organize a curling team and aggravated Bjorn's stepmother.They also had better numerical skills than most Norsemen (with the exception of Torvig...the girl had questionable taste in clothes, but she knew how to handle an account book!) which came in handy because since his Mother and Father had left for parts unknown, Bjorn had found it more profitable to trade than to raid. The Byzantines to the South and East had things like spices, silk, wine, coffee, figs and olives that no one in Kattegat had seen until Bjorn had gone there, and everyone in Norway wanted them. The Norse had things that the Byzantines wanted, like timber, furs, amber...and people. The Byzantines wanted slaves, but Bjorn had refused to get involved in the slave trade on account of his first wife, who had been a freedwoman. Instead, the men and women he sent to them were all free and highly skilled warriors, and expected to be paid, because the best protection against rampaging, ravening barbarians was to hire OTHER rampaging barbarians to defend them...indeed, his most prized workers were Viking women, because while they rampage they seldom ravaged, and could be trusted to guard a gynaceum. Their official name was the Varengians, but unofficially, they were known as the Brute Squad.  
"Whup," said Nate. "A little help, please." The fish had revived, and started to thrash about. "At any rate," said Nate as the sturgeon was finally subdued "You drink too much, and you've been eating your feelings, and it ain't pretty. They've startd Calling you Bjorn Barrelsides...shoo! Damn cat!" The white cat had reappeared, and was in the process of making off with the sturgeon's liver. "You need to get some pussy, and not the four-legged kind. Queen Asslaug may be second cousin to the Eunemides, but she's right about one thing, Bjorn. You need to get another wife!


	2. It's Getting Hot In Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bjorn discusses his plans with his brothers and gets steam cleaned by Kyllikylli

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Shoggoths" are a name borrowed from Lovecraft, and "Pangor Ban" is the name of the first cat mentioned in European literature  
> For some reason, they always show people taking tub baths on Vikings, which I think is a rather silly anachronism.

The doors of Bjorn's Great Hall were flung open, and a confused mass of brothers entered...Bjorn's four half-brothers, Kylli's six, and the Tir Manannan Twins. The white cat sat up, licking his chops, and hissed at Bjorn's youngest brother. Ivar snarled back...for some reason, cats hated him, and he hated them back. The cat ran and jumped into Brother Lucas's arms  
"Oh Pangor Ban...did Ivar frighten you?" cooed Lucas.  
"Fuck off," Ivar said "and take that furball with you. Your voice hurts my head."  
Lucas grinned nastily. "Did we have a little too much to drink last night? Too much mead on a young tummy? You should be more careful, Ivar."  
"I'd suggest a hair of the dog, but your mother and Kylli polished off the lot last night," said Bjorn. "We've all got hangovers, Ivar. Try not to be rude."  
Ivar mumbled something under his breath.  
"By the way," said Bjorn to Hanno "How is Kylli?"  
"She's inn the sauna crying her face off, and won't let anybody in," said Hanno. "But thank you for not deflowering her."  
It took a moment for Bjorn to realize what Hanno had just said.  
"Um," said Bjorn. "Is kylli a..."  
"She's a twenty-five year old virgin, said Hanno. "So what of it? We keep her that way so she's extra sparky. It helps in case we have to deal with shoggoths or dispose of a sormu voimakas."  
"What's a sormu voimakas?" asked Bjorn.  
""YKSI SORMU VOIMAKAS, YKSI SORMU KELTANEN..." Pekko suddenly boomed "YKSI SORMU KUELOMATON, A YKSI SORMU VOITONREIMURIENEN..."  
Hanno clapped a hand over his brother's mouth "Ssssh! He doesn't need to know about THAT!" as something round and shining popped out of the fish and rolled down to the floor. Ivar scuttled after it, his eyes gleaming with curiousity.  
"Speak of the Devil..." said Hanno "and if your brother is still a virgin, stop him or he's going to have to take the cursed thing and throw it in the nearest active volcano....I think mount Stromboli is sending up clouds of pyroclastic ash as we speak, or was it Aetna? Hmmmmmn!"  
Ivar paused "Do hand jobs count?"  
"No," said George. "To give or to get a hand job merely constitutes Onanism, commonly referred to as being a wanker."  
"Speak for yourself, priest!"  
Pangor Ban hissed at him  
"Fucking pussy!" Ivar snapped "I should gut you for lute strings!"  
"At any rate, if Kylli gets a grip on herself and comes out of the sauna we won't have to take you to Sicily," said Pekko. "Too bad for you 'cos I hear the women there are completely bonzo. We can leave as soon as the ice melts."  
"As for other prssing matters," said Bjorn "Nate has convinced me that I need another wife." At this moment, Queen Asslaug stumbled in. She had been a great beauty once, but at that moment she was hung over and still in her dressing gown, and looked closer to fifty-five than forty five, let alone her avowed age of thirty-three.  
"Hanh?" she asked curiously.  
"Not you, Madam" said Bjorn "nor any of your relatives from Uppsala."  
At this point, the entire Taapiolan family shouted "Perkale liikanen Ruotsalaiset!" and spat in unison.  
"And never forget that incident with Ludmilla the Beast, who literally turns into a flaming bitch once a month," said Bjorn. "She tossed a dead rabbit in my lap and ruined one of my best kaftans!"  
"She was trying to show how fond she was of you!" said Queen Asslaug.  
"The big question is if there are any available princesses left in the Baltic?"  
"What about outside the Baltic?" asked Brother George.  
"Not the English!" Bjorn and Asslaug shouted almost in unison.  
"I was speaking of north of Hadrian's Wall," said Brother George. "Father Mackenzie's brother is head of Clan Mackenzie, King of The Highlands and The Islands and he's got unmarried daughters up the ying-yang. They're probably not prize beauties, but they are nice Christian girls of royal pedigree."  
Bjorn mused for a moment. His stepmother's face fell when she realized what he was considering, then she quietly stepped outside and stared up at the cold, grey sky.  
"Nice Christian girls? WHY, FRIGG? WHY/" she baweled at a deity that had been banished to Valhalla and as such could not hear her.

The sun was well above the horizon before Kyllikylli let anyone else into the sauna.  
"Torvig is talking to her," said Nate. "I heard her use the terms 'rutting bull moose" and "uncircumcised" and 'needed a map and a headlamp to find my clitoris', so she's probably cutting you down to make Kylli feel better, so beware!"   
The sounds of women's laughter drifted on the chill morning air as Helga trotted past with a vasta of pine and oak and a big, fluffy towel. Bjorn usually found the laughter of women a pleasant sound, but the guessed that these giggles signified something unpleasant. "I'd better go in," he said. "I think they are plotting something!"

"Well, you could have been a little less mean about it," said Kylli. "That water was COLD!" She sat on the top bench of the sauna, wearing nothing but a towel on her head and her necklaces, which were all of amber, wood and ivory and as such would not burn her in the sauna.  
"I'm sorry," said Bjorn as Kylli smacked him with her vasta. "Ow! That's too hard!"  
"Live with it, Big Guy!" she said, as she hit him again.  
"At any rate," said Bjorn "You're to take the Sweet Concorde and go with your brothers plus Sigurd and Ivar. in the Spring.  
"Why them?" Kylli asked "Ivar's a pest!"  
"You only need to take them as far as the Althing at uppsala, because Ivar has never been to one," said Bjorn. "It might be good for him."  
"You mean he needs to get laid," said Kylli, as she swatted Bjorn again.   
"Ow!" said Bjorn, "Yes, he does...and stop by Constantinople to check on Floki on your way to Sicily."  
""Got it," said Kylli. "I got to aid your brother in moral turpitude and check on the asshole who tried to throttle me and then throw the sormu voimakas in a volcano before going home. It sounds easy enough, if the shoggoths don't show up. What will you be doing?"  
"I'll be here, trying to keep a lid on things while George and Lucas take the Brotherly Love back to Caledonia to arrange a marriage for me."  
Kylli tickled him under his chin with the vasta. "Do you really think a wife from the Land of Man Eating Women is a good idea?" she asked "You know what happened the last time we went there."  
"Well," said Bjorn "Unless Thorunn shows up, it seems to be my best option!"


	3. Thorunn Unchained

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thorunn begins the return journey from Goa, and Floki gets some distressing news

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name "Khalil ibn Habibi" literally translates as "Kindness, son of Friendship"  
> Zoe was the daughter of Emperor Basil II of Constantinople. She's actually from a century or two after Vikings takes place.

Though it was about breakfast time in Norway, it was getting close to noon in Goa, and Thorunn the harem mistress of Lord Vasatnya, aka Khalil ibn Habib aka Dr. Love was contemplating what to serve his four wives and many concubines for lunch. "Well, that durian tree is loaded with ripe fruit," she thought. "I'm pretty sure Sally will want one. Memphis Sally loved durian fruit, but was utterly hopeless at climbing trees, so Thorunn went out into the garden to get one. The garden of Lord Vasatnya was large and of the classic Indian type, full of not only flowers but fruit and vegetables and herbs that would be unimaginable back in Norway...except for that time the elephant had broken, or when monkeys got in and ate everything. One furry little brute sat on the shoulders of a statue depicting a pair of Tantric lovers, eating a cucumber. The monkey bared its teeth at Thorunn  
"Avatar of Hanuman, my ass!" Thorunn hissed. Then she saw that the beast wore a collar, and that a short, plump woman dressed in the habit of a Catholic nun stood by the gate.  
"Hello, Thorunn," said Sister Margurite." I just got a message from..." She smiled and pointed at the sky "and you and I are going back to Norway."

Dr love sat in the midst of his wives and concubines, who were the plumpest, most pampered, and most opulently dressed women that Thorunn had ever met. Her boss liked his women big and happy, and for several years it had been Thorunn's job to make sure that this was so, and she took great pride in her work because making people happy made her happy. However, she remembered the agonized wail that Bjorn had uttered the last time she had seen him in Byzantium, and knew that he would not be happy to see her.  
"You have...who poor...served me well.....and I have.....who poor...decided to give you command of.....one of my ships....who poor...the Stella Libertas. Here are the....who poor....necessary documents. Present them to....who poor...Harbor Master Cohen....who poor...when you reach....who poor....Byzantium" Doctor Love paused, puffing on his hookah pipe, which he claimed relieved his asthma. "And take that strange nun with you. She....who poor...gives my wives funny ideas!"   
Thorunn bowed, and the monkey chattered and clapped his little paws.  
"Do I have to take the monkey with me as well?" she asked.

Floki had come to work at the offices of the Brute Squad in a chipper mood that morning, but as the day wore on his energy had flagged. All day he had dealt with requests from people who wished to hire Viking bodyguards, including a dour Irishman who claimed his daughter had been Taken but had had to be turned away due to lack of funds, and an oddly familiar lady in widow's weeds who had evidently gone on pilgrimage to Jerusalem and required safe passage back to France  
"I believe we have met before," she said. "You were with that nice young man. He was very tall, and had beautiful blue eyes and excellent manners."  
"Most Northmen are tall, and have lovely eyes," said Floki "Though good manners are an unusual trait. However, if you can not pay I can not help you."  
"The Lord will provide," said the Widow Colvert as she glided out of the office "as the Lord does." She was a spry woman for someone past fifty, and Floki strained his mind to remember where he might have seen her before. Something to do with Calvados....he shrugged, and turned his attention to the memo from the Imperial Palace, which stated that the personal bodyguard of Grand Imperial Princess Zoe had been secretly training the little girl to fight with a sword.  
"It's good exercise, and useful if someone tries to assassinate her," thought Floki "so what are they complaining about?"Then just as he was contemplating sending Barak Cohen outa coffee run, Kyllikylli Taapiolan strolled in, as big as life (which wasn't really all that big!)  
"Hei hei, Floki!" she chirped. "So this is Constantinople, then?"  
"I presume that Bjorn is in trouble? asked Floki.  
"Yo," said Kylli. "How did you guess.?"  
"He's Bjorn. It's his nature to get in trouble. What sort of trouble is he in?  
"Well, after getting drunk and throwing me in the fjord, Bjorn announced that he wanted a new wife.  
"That is good," said Floki. "Even here, they tell stories about the Pale King who sits alone in his hall with no queen beside him."  
"They've started a new tale that he tried to marry a woodland sprite who turned into a fish and swam away since I left," said Kylli. "But he's to marry some Caledonian princess. I believe she's Father Abbot Mackenzie's niece."  
Floki shook his head "If she's like her uncle, she's probably got a face like a bull terrier and a temper to match, so I can imagine how Bjorn will react when he sees her. Not only that, but she's Caledonian, and probably a man-eater. It's a wonder that they breed at all."  
"There still seems to be a lot of them," said Kylli "Anyway, things got bad when the Sweet Concorde made port near Uppsala to drop Sigurd and Ivar off at the Althing. The Althing...well, it was not a good Thing at all!"  
"What did you do?" Floki hissed.  
"Nothing," said Kylli. My brothers and I were in no way responsible for releasing the sacrificial animals, but..."  
"WHAT HAPPENED!?"  
"The beasts all got out of their pens and stampeded. People tried to stop them, but....well, everyone at the Althing was either drunk or high or had no pants on. It was an utter cock-up. We lost Ivar and Sigurd in the rumpus."  
Floki uttered a weird hiss, like a kettle on the boil and flokked about spastically.  
"You lost track of Bjorn's brothers?" he asked.  
"my own brothers and I were fleeing at the time," said Kylli "because the godis blamed the incident on us simply because we weren't Norse."  
"That's despicable!" said Floki.  
"Damn right," said Kylli "those racist bastards!"  
"No, said Floki "It is despicable that you left those poor young men behind to save your own arses!"  
"Their mother is a member of the local ruling family," said kylli. "The godis won't harm them like they would me and my brothers. Do I have 'hero' written on my forehead?"  
"No," said Floki "It is an entirely different four-letter word."  
Kylli wiped her forehead "I think Sigurd wrote that the last time I got drunk. I'm surprised it's still there."  
"Anyway," said Floki. "I have to meet someone at a bath house. It's not a place for nice young ladies, so go amuse youself by picking out a nice wedding present. Hey, Barak!"  
Barak stuck his head through the door. He was a pleasant-looking boy with curly dark hair, the son of Harbourmaster Cohen, and had tried to get people to call him "Chen the Barbarian," though the name never stuck. "You want me to go get coffee, Boss?"  
"Not now, Barak. You see this young lady, Barak? I want you to take the company litter and go shopping with her.Show her the city, maybe take her to one of the nice bath houses that ladies like. I'll pay you back later."  
Barak looked at him questioningly.  
"I'm paying you to take the rest of the afternoon off with a pretty girl," said Floki "so never mind that she's got an obscenity written on her forehead in Futhark."  
Barak shrugged. "You the boss, floki!"  
Floki made that seething noise again.


	4. Fishy Buisness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Floki is dissuaded from following a personal vendetta, and Ivar starts a fishy rumour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Granitas (a Sno-Cone like confection made from fruit juice, honey and snow or shaved ice) were first mentioned in Roman times, and continue to be popular in the Mediterranean. In this case,it is made with   
> By "Lesbian" I am referring to "a person from Lesbos", NOT "a woman who likes other women!" And yes, I HAVE read translations of Sappho's poetry, I find her work dull and I think Floki would have a similar opinion to mine.  
> Ivar's fishy story is derived from one about Vainomoinen, the poet-hero of the Kalevala. It brings a new meaning to the term "he sleeps with the fishes!"

Sappho's Cove was not one of those nice bath houses that ladies like...it was a horribly grotty place with mildewed tiles and an "Out of Order" sign on the door to the steam room. The only woman in the place was the dour tribad who ran the snack bar where Floki purchased a pomegranite granita that was watery and a little bit too sweet. "I got my own towel," he told her," as she handed him back the change, and when her back was turned Floki hid the extra-thick straw that came with it under his towel, along with a large shard of glass that he had found earlier. He had not come to Sappho's Cove for pleasure, but to seek revenge.  
"Fuck you, Dimitri..." thought Floki as the bosun of the Xena splashed about in the tepidarium. "Despoiler of innocents..."  
"That's not entirely true," said a voice in Floki's head that sounded remarkably like the late Aethelstan. "Bjorn had had a wife and a girlfriend by that time, and that awful nun who pegged him in the Wookie Hole, so he was not entirely innocent. Not only that, but he escaped and charged Dimitri and his friends with assault and kidnapping, so the man's spent most of the past decade in prison."  
"That filthy little Lesbian probably enjoyed it tremendously," thought Floki. "Feh! Look at him!"  
"What have you got against people from Lesbos?" asked the ghost of Aethelstan "I've always heard it was a nice island!"  
"Have you ever read Sappho's poetry?" asked Floki. "It's awful! And besides, I don't hate Lesbians, I hate Dimitri. I hate him almost as much as I hate you."  
"Why?" asked the ghost of Aethelstan. "He only did what you yourself would do if Bjorn would let you, you bloody hypocrite!"  
This was entirely true. Floki had realized late in life that he liked both sexes. His only problem was that he was old and really rather ugly, and the only woman who had ever wanted to sleep with him had lost interest when she entered menopause. Floki hissed through his teeth. "Bjorn likes women. What would he want from Floki the Fugly?" Then he stuck the straw in his mouth and put his head under the water. He was a poor swimmer, but the breathing tube helped. He held the glass shard lightly in his fingers, to avoid cutting himself, because if it was sharp enough to cut his fingers, he would be able to nick the big vein on Dimitri's thigh and then Floki could drop it in the intake grate and swim away before anyone noticed that there was a sailor dying of massive blood loss in the tepidarium.  
"They'll put you in that same prison if they catch you..."said the ghost of Aethelstan. Then someone stuck a finger in the straw that Floki had been using as a snorkel. He surfaced, gasping for air.  
"Hullo," said Sister Margurite, aka The Nasty Nun. "It's a nice day for a swim, isn't it, Floki?" She grinned. Sister Peg was a true English rose with very sharp thorns.  
"How did you get in her?" asked Floki "This is a men-only bath house!"  
"You'd be suprised at all the places I can get into," said Sister Peg.   
"Yeah, like Bjorn's...ow, shit!" said Floki. The glass shard had sliced into his fingers, so he let go of it. It sank to the bottom of the pool and was sucked into the intake grate. "I think I need a bandage!"  
"You need to get your head out of your ass and come with us," said Sister Peg. Another woman sat at the bar, sucking away at a pomegranita. She wore a yashmak, and was ignoring the tribad's attempts to start a conversation.  
"Who's that?" asked Floki "Deborah the Judge?"  
"That's Thorunn," said Sister Peg. "She's back from Goa."  
Floki paddled over to where he had left his towel.  
"If it gets you out of my ass I'll go," he said.

When the sacrificial beasts at Uppsala had run wild, Ivar Ragnarsson had crawled under a table and hid there until a very angry godi found him, dragged him out by his atrophied feet, and dumped himin the midst of a circle of furious Swedes next to his brother Sigurd Snake-in-the-Eye, who was badly beaten up and looked exceedingly glum. A particularly aged and ugly volva whose tits sagged past her waist pointed at them and hissed "Sons of Ragnar! Brothers of Bjorn the Betrayer! You come here and desecrate our rites, so prepare to meet an ignoble end!" Her breath stank as though she had eaten moldy bread.  
"Please dont' hurt me!" Ivar yelped. "I'm just a cripple, and I love the Gods!" I....it was that Karelian witch that did it! She let the sacrificial beasts loose, not I or my brother! She...well, Bjorn had his eye on her for a long time, but when he askedto marry her, she she jumped into the harbour and turned into a fish!  
"Hanh?" asked the crone.  
"It's true," said Ivar. "She turned into a fish, so Bjorn dove in and fucked the fish like this," He gestured obscenely. "He's a fish fucking pervert who openly mocks the Gods." Ivar's tale became quite lurid, and was not entirely of his own invention, because his half-brother's love of wine and rich food was well known, as were his meticulous grooming habits and his custom of wearing silk kaftans of the Byzantine fashion on special occasions (though Bjorn claimed he did so because they were comfortable and masked his expanding girth) and Ivar had heard that the things that his half-brother did with women were slightly odd, and even that the two missionaries that Bjorn had brought back from Caledonia came from an island of cannibals and were the twin sons of a she-demon. He elaborated the rumours until he had portrayed Kattegat as the most decadent den of iniquity since the demolition of the Domus Aurea. "And when that fat pervert raped my Mother, the scion of your own royal house and put her in prison, I decided to flee Norway and plead for amnesty. Please, Madam..."   
"So you fled with the fish woman who released all our sacrificial animals," asked the volva. "A Karelian, no less!"  
"She's a nymphomaniac," said Ivar "and a raging paraphiliac. She made me do...terrible, shameful things!"  
"Those sick Karelian bastards!" said a godi who had a somewhat kinder face than most of the other godis. "You can't trust them at all. They hate the Gods worst than the Christians do." He patted Ivar on the shoulder. "You did a brave thing escaping that foul place and coming to us, Son. Is there anything else we can do for you?"  
"Yes," said Ivar. "Are there any ladies here who are paraphiliacs?"  
"And what is that, my Son?"  
I var grinned. "A paraphiliac is someone who is attracted to cripples." He pointed at his legs. "Like me!"


	5. Star of Liberty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Stella Libertas sets sail for Norway by way of Sicily, and Floki sees a rather vulgar mural

They dropped by Harbourmaster Cohen's office with the ships papers just as he was preparing to leave for Shabbas. He handed Thorunn a key the length of her forearm, and said "I'd invite you to stat for dinner, but the last time I invited Norse people into my home, Bjorn's mother and her friends sacked my living room and desecrated a fine Oriental rug," he said. "I'll put them up at my place," said Floki. He now shared the flat across the hallway from Lady Lou, and when his roommate (known as Vlad the Impaled) laid eyes on Sister Margurite, the man let out a terrified wail and took to his heels. Floki shot a Meaningful Look at the fat little nun. "Have you met before?" he asked  
"He was a shitty bassoonist," said Sister Peg. "So what of it?" Then the Varengian Company litter hove into view with the Taapiolan brothers trailing behind it carrying packages. The litter stopped and deposited Kyllikylli at Louhi's doorstep.  
"Get home as fast as you can, Barak!" Floki shouted "You'll catch Hell if you're late for Shabbas!"The litter bearers took off post haste. "I told you to get a wedding present, not buy half of Byzantium!" he said to Kylli. "Do we still have enough money to get home?"  
Kylli smiled a bit too sweetly. "I got a Poor Dead Elephants discount on all of this except for the Armenian rug. The merchant happily gave me a 20% discount when I foretold that the name Kardashian will one day be spoken with awe and terror. So you've decided to come back to Kattegat with us?"  
Floki giggled and nodded. "Someone has to save Bjorn from being fed to a man-eating Celt now that Thorunn's back from India, wherever the Hell that is." A small, furry creature dashed out of the shadows, chattering. It peered at Floki with almost human eyes and started wanking off. "What in the Nine Hells is THAT?" Floki asked.  
"That's Nutmeg," said Thorunn. "He's Margurite's monkey."  
"He reminds me of her cousin Aethelstan, only he didn't do what that little beast is doing where people could see him," said Floki as Nutmeg shrieked and bared his fangs. "Great. We'll see to that ship tomorrow. What'll we do tonight?"   
'"Well, if Louhi answers the door, we'll go do what the Suomi always do when family members meet, and go get massively drunk." Eventually, the door opened, and after stowing the rug and various other wedding presents in Louhi's small and rather stuffy flat, Louhi proceeded to drag her unexpected guests through a series of taverns and gambling dens, some of which were so seedy that Floki refused to enter them.  
"When did you become so cautious?" asked Louhi.  
"I became much more cautious when I turned forty-nine and decided I wanted to live past fifty," said Floki.  
"Suit yourself," said Louhi. "I've never held back, and I'm nearly eighty." Then Floki had gotten lost, ran into the entire crew of the Xena, and took on the entire lot of them in a brawl. When the Taapiolans came to fish him out of the Drunk Tank, Floki had a sprained wrist and several missing teeth and his eyeliner was badly smeared, but he was grinning from ear to ear. His face fell when the Widow Colvert sashayed past him up the gangplank of the Stella Libertas.  
"Not her!" Floki yelped "She can't pay!"  
"She did," said Thorunn "and she'll pay more when she gets to Calais." The next figure who staggered up the gangplank hauling a rolled-up pallet on a dollycart pleased Floki even less. As she walked past, Iris winked one indigo eye and waggled her long brown fingers at him.  
"Hullo, Floki!" said Iris. "I have decided to take up my bed and walk, or rather sail. There's something I must do in Kattegat."  
"Oh shit!" said Floki. "I doubt that the Fisher of Men has money for passage too!"  
"Of course not," said Margurite. "But messiahs, demigods and divine avatars travel for free on the Stella Libertas. It's written in our contract with Dr. Love."  
"We have an avatar of the god Hanuman on board too," said Thorunn. She pointed at Nutmeg with her chin. "He's sitting on the forecastle grooming himself."

Floki wandered along the pier, sipping a pomegranita that Kylli had laced with vodka before she and her brothers had rented mules before they rented mules and traipsed off towards the volcano that was belching smoke. He had declined to go with them, but there was little else to do in Messina except look at things. He looked at attractive young Sicilian people, but except for two girls who nudged each other and giggled as though they found his age and decrepitude amusing, he was ignored. He watched an octopus that had escaped from a beachfront eatery being assaulted and dragged back inside to be battered and deep-fried. There were whores of both sexes, but although Floki desperately wanted sex he did not want to get robbed or contract a sexually transmitted disease he steered clear of them. Then he looked at the buildings and the art. The one thing he liked better than pomegranitas (and vodka really did make them better) was art. He had made his own wood sculptures for years before he learned that other people carved voluptuous nymphs and lewd satyrs out of snowy marble and Aethelstan's fussy calligraphy had never appealed to him as much as Sicilian murals. A particularly large and ornate example of this art form was displayed on the courtyard wall of the eatery from which the octopus had tried to escape. It depicted a very muscular man with garishly yellow hair fornicating with a porpoise in a swirling profusion of stylized waves.  
"Dat's Bjorn the Behemoth, King of Norway" said Stallone, who ran the bar "He sleeps with da fishes."  
"What?" asked Floki.  
"'E wanted to marry 'is mama, but she said no and turned into a porpoise to get away, but 'e jumped in after 'er and fucked 'er."  
"That's preposterous," said Floki.  
"No it ain't. Dey's unnatural up in dem parts. Dey worship der evil gods and fuck anybody or anything with a pulse."  
"I'm Norwegian," said Floki "Do I look like someone who would sexually abuse a sea creature?"  
Stallone regarded him gravely. "Yup!"

"There's something you gotta see that you probably won't like," said Floki. He led Thorunn and Margurite to Stallone's Taverna.  
"Yikes!" said Thorunn .  
"Nice detail work," said Sister Peg, pointing with the skewer from which she had beeen eating grilled shrimp "but a trifle vulgar for public display."  
"I painted it myself," said Stallone "And as for the subject matter....well, we don't get very many nuns at this place, so I'm sorry."  
"I'm not offended," said Margurite.  
"Is that feller gonna be all right?" Stallone asked, pointing at Floki, who had lain down beside the small fountain in the middle of the courtyard.  
"He's fine," said Sister Peg "though he's had a bit of heat stroke. She turned to Thorunn "I think your hubby has been the victim of a smear campaign," she said, and jabbed the skewer into a crack in the plaster and snapped it off.   
The Widow Colvert simply looked at the mural and giggled. "It really does look like your young friend," she told Floki. Then the Taapiolans arrived, and stared in horror. Pekko put his hands over Kylli's eyes.  
"We just came down the mountain," Hanno said "and we are covered in shoggoth bites, and Kylli's blitzed out." In fact, Kylli had apparently gone to sleep in Pekko's arms, and was snoring softly. Her ponytail drooped halfway to the floor. "But tomorrow we should set sail again. I think Bjorn may be balls deep in trouble right now."


	6. Gael Force

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bjorn is fed to a man-eating Celt, while the Swedes muster for war and the Stella Libertas rounds the Franco-Iberian penninsula

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that I've been able to watch the show again, this story has become slightly non-canonical, because I imagined Bjorn reaching the Mediterranean by the Volga River route, but the show depicts the Vikings as getting there via the Strait of Gibraltar!  
> The tune of Kylli's song is "The Banks of Sicily," which is a fairly modern bagpipe tune but quite catchy.

At that moment, Bjorn was balls deep in his new wife, but still quite aware that he was balls deep in trouble as well. The Swedes were mustering for war, and had started some fishy rumors about him that any one who actually came to Kattegat would learn were false. Queen Asslaug was still free, though in poor health due to her chronic alcoholism. Bjorn had himself made a conscious decision to cut back on the hooch because too much really did fell his tree, so to speak, and his new queen would not be impressed if he were droopy. The Brotherly Love delivered Princess Bellona along with her knitting bag and a dowry that included several horses and dogs and two barrels of Glen Nepenthe. The princess herself had evidently fortified herself with a few nips of this, and as she tottered down the gangplank she had slipped and fallen into the fjord and Bjorn had had to fish her out in a rather undignified fashion before her thick woolen dress and the massive gold torque, brooches, and bracelets that completed her trosseau dragged the poor girl down to the bottom. The ceremony itself was brief, and not attended by Bjorn's stepmother or his two remaining half-brothers, and Bellona suddenly leaned over and vomited afterwards.  
"Well so much for this kaftan," Bjorn thought as his new wife sluiced out her mouth and checked to see if she had vomit in her hair, which was a rich cinnamon auburn and had been elaborately coiffed, but was coming undone in a in a disorderly profusion of curls. She had a lot of freckles and a slight under bite that made her look like a brindled bull mastiff puppy and had broad hips and rather meaty thighs so she was not exactly a great beauty, but she seemed good natured and intelligent and when she bounced up on her toes to kiss him her mouth tasted like whiskey.   
"Hey, you don't have to do anything you don't want to do," Bjorn said. "If you're not feeling well I can wait..." but Bellona she kicked the door to the royal bedchamber shut and then wrestled him out of his vomit-stained kaftan and then attacked his cock with all the ferocity of the bull terrier that she resembled. As the blood rushing to his groin made Bjorn's knees buckle, he realized that even if he did not love his new wife, she was remarkably strong and determined to get what she wanted, and might get angry if she did not get it. Luckily, he did not need a map and a headlamp to find her clitoris. Bellona pulled his hair unmercifully, and uttered a stream of undecipherable Gaelic syllables that might have been either endearments or swear words as she got off, and then punched him in the chest before she curled up beside him and went to sleep.  
"Well, I guess you got what you wanted," Bjorn said as Bellona started to snore.

The Stella Libertas had to circle the Franco-Iberian peninsula, and as she sailed Kylli sang a song that had popped into her head the morning after she had had to be carried down Mount Aetna. She figured that the best way to overcome the smear campaign against her friend Bjorn was to write a song about the brave, generous, and (because she understood that the people hearing this song were most likely to be Christian) devoutly Christian king beset by cruel pagans, and of his loyal queen who was coming from the East to save him. The chorus ran thus:  
"Hei, hei King Bjorn of Norroway/To your health, o King of the North!/Valiant in spite of calumny/Your Thorunn is coming to aid thee...!" and the Widow Colvert helped her compose versions in Lange d'Oc and Lange d'Oeil because there was nothing the French loved better than a good chanson. Kylli was really sad when they dropped the Widow off at Calais, and Iris embraced the old woman before she left.  
"She's a fine woman," said Iris "and a true servant of That Which Is."  
Floki snorted. "She's a depraved old tart! I think she's slept with every sailor on this boat, and at her age she should show some dignity!"  
Iris regarded him gravely. "So would you, if you could." she said. "Jealousy is an ugly vice."  
"And so is sanctimoniousness," said Floki "so fuck off. I'd throw you over the side if I didn't know you could walk on water!"  
Iris tapped Floki's glass, and turned the vodka that Kylli had added to Floki's pomegranita back into sugar. "She's git a part to play in this too. Now Thorunn's going to drop Sister Marturite off at the mouth of the Cumber River."  
"Good riddance," said Floki "to both her and her little pet."


	7. Le Roi De La Nord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rollo gets involved, Sister Peg seeks aid from her family, and the Stella Libertas arrives in Kattegat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Normandy is famous for being the part of France that does not produce very good wine, so they make apple cider.  
> The name "Cumberlingas" is derived from their dwelling place (the Cumber Valley) with the suffix -lingas (people)   
> "Slainte ba, Farquart!" means "To your health, Darling!" in Gaelic

Rollo, the Duke of Normandy lay on his back under a blooming apple tree and smiled. His wife liked hawking, so he went with her to keep her happy, but he really did not like hawks that much because they reminded him too much of Floki so on hawking expeditions he would go find a tree to sit under and think about how great it was to live in France rather than in Norway. They had good cheese here, and wonderful apples, and gorgeous women, and now that he'd sent his boneheaded brother packing the only trouble that Rollo had was that he sometimes missed his nephew. Bjorn was a good lad, so unlike his father that Rollo sometimes wished that he was the boy's father rather than his uncle. He had heard that Bjorn had done some clever things and was making Norway very rich by hiring out Vikings as bodyguards to rich Byzantines, but he'd heard some troubling things as well. His ruminations were interrupted by a spry old woman in widow's weeds and a pilgrim's hat rode by on a mule singing  
"Bonjour, roi Bjorn de Norvige...a toi sante, le roi de la Nord..."  
Rollo listened intently to her song. The old woman did not have as good a voice as some, but her song interested him. He stood up, and the old lady nearly fell off her mule trying to either dismount or curtsy where she sat.  
"Don't bother," said Rollo. "Just tell me what sort of trouble my nephew has gotten into!"

Sister Margurite knew there was no chance of getting in contact with King Ecbert or KIng Aelle, and her sisters at St. Benedict on Cumberbatch refused to open the door which she noticed had the flayed skin of a Northman who might have been nearly the size of Bjorn nailed to it, so she headed down the road to the village where she grew up, and straight into the pub known as the Raging Cock.  
"Well, I'm back...." she said. "Hullo uncle Maltiward...Aunt Frida....Tidwell and Torthelm, good to see you..." As she adressed various Bertrams and Wilburforces, Wiglafs, Wealtheows, and Great Aunt Apfelwiswyn who was at seventy was considered the matriarch of the family and accorded the seat of honour by the fire, every single patron of the Raging Cock turned to look at Sister Peg. They were a seedy pack of rural degenerates, but they were her family and the Raging Cock was her home. "I need help," she said. "Or rather, a friend of mine does. His name is Bjorn Ironside, and he's the King of Norway.  
There was a moment of dead silence, broken by the sound of someone munching on a parsnip.  
"Isn't he one of those bastards who done in Our Aethelstan?" asked Great-Aunt Apfelwiswyn. "Fuck him!"  
At this point, Nutmeg popped out of Sister Peg's bag, clutching the Black Mamba like a spear. "I already have...." she said ruefully, as the whole pub burst out laughing.

The Stella Libertas was easily five times the size of any Norse long ship, so they moored it outside Kattegat harbour and rowed in in one of the outriggers. The guards at the door of Bjorn's Hall were engrossed in a game of backgammon, but snappeded to attention as Floki and the others appeared. "We know who you are, Floki, and the Karelian witch and her brothers....but the girl with the purple eyes and the lady in the yashmak need to wait at the door.  
Thorunn lifted her yashmak. "Let me in. I'm Bjorn's wife."  
The guard recoiled "Lady, I can see why you wear that thing, but I'm not letting you in. King Bjorn is WITH his wife. They are...ensuring the royal succession, as they do every morning. Listen!" Thorunn listened, and so did Floki and the others, but Pekko put his hands over his sister's ears. "It sounds like Ragnarok," said the guard. "I can hardly imagine what that depraved Celt is doing to him."  
"I can," said Floki "Caledonian women are man eaters"  
The guards snickered. "Really?"  
Floki nodded, as did all six of Kylli's brothers. "The last time we went there, we barely escaped with our lives," said Jussi. "At any rate, when Bjorn's second wife is finished manhandling him, tell him his OTHER wife wants to talk to him."

Bjorn had grown a bit fat since Thorunn had lastseen him. His eyes were puffy, and one of his teeth had been badly chipped, and while he had probably washed before he left his bed chamber his face was flushed and he had apparently not had time to re-braid his hair, though he had put on a fresh kaftan which was embroidered in gold thread and doused himself with something that smelled like a whale had vomited in a spice shop. He looked tired and sad and apprehensive, but he smiled ruefully when he saw Thorunn. "Hullo, Thorunn," he said. "I suppose I should introduce you to Bellona." A freckled girl with a wild mass of cinnamon coloured curls trotted in after him carrying a large ceramic jug and a stack of tiny glasses, into which she dispensed an amber liquid.  
"Slainte ba, Farquart!" she said, and downed hers in a single gulp.  
"As far as I can tell, that means 'skoal'" said Bjorn. "Bellona has not learned much Norse since she came here. We...don't actually talk that much."  
"I guessed that," said Thorunn. "She's already pregnant." She gulped down the brown liquid, which was evidently an alcoholic beverage almost as strong as vodka.   
"I'm sorry, Thorunn," said Bjorn. "and in case you're wondering, I don't love her as I love you. I married her for political reasons."  
"But clearly, you like bulling her," said Floki. "Bjorn, you are as bad a pig as your father!" he downed his own glass of Glen Nepenthe. "Pregnant women should not drink this stuff!"   
"Yes, I am a pig," said Bjorn. "But there is something I need done. I want you to evacuate Bellona and whatever people who can't fight from Kattegat. I may not love her as I love you, but one thing I've learned from the mistakes I've made with you is that only an idiot allows a pregnant woman anywhere near a battlefield. I should have tied you up in a sack and told Helga not to let you free until the last ship sailed over the horizon when we went to England."  
"I'm not angry about that," said Thorunn "Or even that you can't keep it in your pants. What bothers me is that you went off to France and then Liggle Sigi died. What sort of buckethead leaves a little girl alone like that?"  
Bjorn bowed his head. "I'm sorry. I had to go with Father, and France was no safe place for a little girl!"  
"Evidently, neither was Kattegat!" said Thorunn.  
Bjorn began weeping in an ugly and undignified manner as Queen Asslaug wandered in, realized who was in the room and what they were discussing, and tried to leave.  
"Asslaug was supposed to be caring for her," said Bjorn. "I think she killed Little Sigi."  
"No," said Asslaug. "It wasn't me. She had an accident and fell from that bridge. I was ill."  
"You were probably sleeping off a hangover," said Floki. "And while Little Sigi was technically speaking not your grandchild, you had a responsibility towards her. You are a truly terrible human being!"  
"Holy shit!" said Asslaug. "You sound like that ridiculous priest that Ragnar used to keep. Did Byzantium turn you into a Christian?"  
"The fuck it did," said Floki. "But when i was there I was introduced to the doctrines of Stoicism, which can be summed up by the phrase 'life is awful, so don't make it worse by being a putz!""  
"Frig!" said Asslaug. She rested her chin on her hands for a moment. "Ivar told me he killed Little Sigi" she said after a moment or two. "They were playing down by the river, and one day she found some toy or trinket that Ivar wanted, and refused to give it to him, so they fought and he pushed her in. You've got to remember that Ivar was ten years old at the time....what could I do but protect my little boy?"  
Thorunn slapped her. "Do you want me to take this bitch on the Stella Libertas?" she asked Bjorn.  
Bjorn spread his hands. "Go ahead. I hate her, but I pity her, and we may need a hostage."  
"Well, it's a good thing we brought you a wedding present," said Kylli. Pekko and Jussi trotted out the Armenian rug. "Time to roll the old trout up like Cleopatra." Kylli winked. "I also have a suprise or two in mind for the Raukalaiset, but I need a lot of wire....copper or silver or gold like that embroidery on your kaftan. How much of your wardrobe is embroidered with gold thread."  
"Most of it," said Bjorn.  
"Good. You may have to sacrifice your clothes."  
"I'll need to keep my red kaftan for when the Swedes arrive," said Bjorn "so that if I bleed it won't show too much....oh, and I'll probably need my brown trousers as well!"

They planned to evacuate as many non-combatants as they could, then the warriors who were still loyal to Bjorn would erect barricades around Kattegat, not to protect it but to contain the Swedes once they arrived, then after the Swedes had disembarked to do the usual mayhem and pillaging the Taapiolans would go out in bull-boats to scupper as many Swedish longships as they could and set fire to the town. Kylli's special project was installed in the Great Hall, but their main objective was to drive the remaining Swedes towards Sigi's Bridge.  
"This will definitely be a day to wear my red kaftan," said Bjorn. "But if I die, I should make an end worthy of rememberance!"  
"I personally think red makes you look florid," said Thorunn. "Now sit still so I can do your hair!"


	8. Brown Trousers Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sword day, a shield day...a brown trouser day!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is partly inspired by the later Battle of Stanfield Bridge, in which a single Viking held off an entire army. No wonder there's a brand of underwear called Stanfields....after such a day, most people would NEED a new pair of undies!   
> This non-anthropomorphic Christ is from the Book of Revelations.   
> "Where are we going to bury them all?" is attributed to Marshal Manneheim.  
> Hadrian was the Donald Trump of Imperial Rome.

It was a sword day, a red day. Shields were shivered, spears were splintered, and men who did not wear their brown trousers soon wished that they had done so, especially those that blundered into the web of golden wires that Kyllikylli had erected in the Great Hall and were blitzed, but eventually the Swedes got wise to her ploy and set the Great Hall on fire. Bjorn saw the plume of smoke go up, and swore vociferously...but then one by one the Swedish long ships sank, and other fires were lit. Thatch burns nicely, as does tarred wood, and when the warehouse in which his stash of hooch went up in a rush of blue flame Nate the Belligerent Butcher solemnly handed him the last jug of Glen Nepenthe and Bjorn drank about of it and handed it to the Twins. "Don't let those Swedes get ANY of this," he said. "It is too damn good for them."  
"Damn right," said George, who drank and handed it to Lucas, who simply grinned, swigged, and handed it to Floki, who returned it to Nate with a couple of drams still in it.   
"I hope Thorunn got away in time with the children and ladies," said Bjorn. "There are a few shield maidens still in Kattegat, but there's no reason why Bellona and Torvig and Helga should die for my sake....oh, Christ with tits!" It took him a moment to recognize Iris, because she had been a prepubescent girl the last time Bjorn had seen her. She had grown into a tall young woman about the same age as Little Sigi would have been if she had lived, but olive-skinned and dark haired where Sigi had been fair. Then the air seemed to ripple, and for a moment Bjorn saw Iris as a Lamb that had been slain and yet lived. The Lamb had seven horns and seven indigo eyes and stood before the throne of something completely indescribable.  
"I have come to Norway to do what I must in every lifetime," she said "but PLEASE do not take my name in vain again!"  
Bjorn dropped to his knees, wondering if the rye bread he had eaten at breakfast had been tainted with ergot. Any more surprises like this, and he really WOULD be glad he had worn his brown trousers. "You came here to die."  
Iris resumed human form, and nodded. "When they raised the gods of clay and called them Baal-Rimnon and Baalat-Tophet, I came and I died. When they raised the gods of stone and called them Osiris and Isis and Venus and Mars, I came and I died, and I come now to the North, where they raised the gods of blood. People will raise other gods....the gods of gold, the gods of steel, and even the gods of flesh. Each time, I will return, and I will die. You know what I do."  
"I thought we sent the Aesir to Valhalla..."said Bjorn.  
"They are in Valhalla," said Iris "but a shadow of them remains in those people's hearts, along with a lot of hatred and envy and fear. Your bigest problem is that you were too successful for your own good, and became too rich."  
"Hanh..." said Bjorn "so the love of money is the root of all evil?"  
"You're also a drunkard and a glutton and a bit of a lecher," said Iris. "But you are still worthy of salvation!"  
"Um," said Floki. "The Swedes are coming!"  
Bjorn peered through the smoke. "Where are we going to bury them all?"  
An arrow struck Iris at the back of her head, and as she crumpled she still smiled at Bjorn as though she was about to reveal a wonderful secret. Bjorn hefted his axe and broke into a run, but before any blow was struck, pain lanced up his lfet arm and he fell flat on his face. "This was definitely a good day to wear brown trousers!" He thought numbly as a small, brown, furry shape scampered out from under the bridge and jumped straight at the head of a particularly ferocious-looking shield wife. "And if I am not mistaken, that is a flying monkey. I thought that the bread I had at breakfast tasted a bit suspicious." Floki ran up beside him, swinging a huge maul hammer and swearing. He seemed to be trying to bring the bridge down on top of them both so that the Swedes would be trapped inside the barricades and the remaining Norwegians could either defend themselves or flee. For some strange reason, Bjorn could hear people singing in French  
"Bonjour, roi Bjorn de Norvige...a toi sante, le Roi de la Nord..." and others were singing in Hebrew "Barak hazad, hazad ai-menu, ha-Adonai ai-menu..." Bjorn recognized this as the Song of Barak, but who in the Nine Hells would be singing in Hebrew in Kattegat? This would have perplexed him more, but his heart had stopped beating a minute ago, and his brain had run out of oxygen, so he suddenly passed out.

Something that might easily be mistaken for a bear crawled through Kattegat, dodging falling timbers and bits of debris. A Swede saw it and shouted, and the beast reared up and spat a crossbow quarrel at him which hit home just above his groin. "Hell no," said Torvig under the bear skin's forequarters "I am in no mood to be raped today!"  
"Head for the river," said kyllikylli, who sheltered under the beasts hind quarters. "This thing is starting to smoke." They had in fact grabbed Bjorn's bearskin a beat a hasty retreat when the Swedes torched the Great Hall, because bear hide is a remarkably tough material, and as such is useful when one is escaping a burning building and being shot at. "My brothers are around here somewhere," said Kylli "If they haven't done the sensible thing and gotten the fuck out."  
"WE should have gotten the fuck out while we had the chance," said Torvig "so why didn't we?"  
"I dunno," said Kylli "It's not like we've got 'hero written on our foreheads." Torvig had in fact fainted at her first husband's execution, shot her second husband, and slept with Bjorn while Thorunn was pregnant. Moreover she could be a petulant bitch and had wretched taste in clothes. Nonetheless she was the closest thing that Kyllikylli Taapiolan had to a friend, and they were both resolved to get out of Kattegat alive and unraped. The two women shrank back as the warehouse in which Bjorn's hooch was stored went up in flames.  
"Damn those Raukalaiset for wasting good vodka!" Kylli muttered as a dozen or so Swedes ran past with their clothes blazing. Then they heard the singing, first the French version of the song that Kylli had composed, then more voices singing in an unfamiliar language. There were warriors in the streets of Kattegat fighting the Swedes, and a very large man with grey in his beard dashed past, swinging an axe.  
"Well fuck me," said Torvig. "What in the Nine Hells is Rollo doing here?

"This is either the bravest thing one of my people has done since the Bar Kokhba Revolt, or the stupidest!" Nate thought as the Swedes charged Little Sigi's Bridge. Bjorn Ironside, son of Ragnar Lothbrook had stood on the bridge with the sun on his golden hair and his gilded mail and the embroidery on his last silk kaftan, and looked like the hero of some ancient tale before he suddenly slumped over. Nate thought his friend had been shot by that first volley of of arrows."Well, I know how the Bar Kokhba Revolt ended for the Jews..." He swore, and ran past Floki, who was trying to pull down the bridge and was having difficulty in doing so because the Tir Manannan Twins had built it like the original stone privy (stone outhouses being a uniquely Caledonian form of architecture). The missionaries claimed that the Caledonians had started building dolemens and peculiar stone circles shortly after the Flood, and had been so impressed by the building of Hadrian's Wall that they had spent much of the past five centuries trying to equal it, so despite Floki's efforts the bridge held. Nate grabbed Bjorn's ankles and tried to drag him out of the way, but wrenched his back in doing so. "Too damn many smoked meat sandwiches," thought Nate "He's put on a LOT of weight!" His back hurt, but it hurt even worse when an arrow struck him in the kidneys. Then he saw something incredible. A column of warriors let by a young man riding a camel was marching through the woods singing the Song of Barak. Their leader was only about fifteen or sixteen, and had prominent ears and pronounced Semitic features. Nate guessed that the Brute Squad had been called in, led by Barak Cohen, who had evidently spent all his Bar Mitzvah gelt on a breast plate and helmet that probably dated from the reign of Marcus Aurelius. "I stand corrected," thought Nate as he began to weaken from blood loss. "THAT is the bravest thing any Jew has done since the Bar Kokhba Revolt, hands down." Then as he blacked out he realized that Bjorn had disappeared.


	9. Vale Tenebris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bjorn finds himself in a different Afterlife than the one he was expecting, and Kylli and Torvig meet the Cumberlingas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The popular concept of Heaven (harps, angels, clouds et cetera) was invented LONG after the 7th century AD, and is not actually founded in any Biblical text. At the time that Vikings is supposed to be taking place, most Christians believed in something more like the Jewish Valley Of The Shadow, and a few sects believed in reincarnation.

"Hullo, Aethelstan," said Bjorn. "If I am talking to you, I must be dead, but this does not look like Valhalla. Why are we sitting under a tree by the banks of a river?"  
"I think this is the Valley of the Shadow of Death," said Aethelstan. "Though it looks like the field where my brothers and I used to go to play football."  
Nate the Butcher lay in the grass, staring into the water with a happy little smile.  
"He appears to be re-living his bar mitzvah. I suppose that's what happens in the Valley," said Aethelstan "You get to re-live your life over and over again. I suppose it's better if you lived an agreeable life. Mine was terrible."  
"So was mine," said Bjorn. "I was a selfish, horny idiot who drove his wife away and neglected his little girl. Now I've gotten another woman pregnant, and there's another child I won't be there for....hanh, suddenly your vow of celibacy makes sense!"  
"Um," said Aethelstan. "I broke my vow, remember? I've been watching Alfred, and he's a monster. And that's just the time I actually did the deed....I confess that I coveted your wife's ass in the worst way, which is a sin even if committed only in thought!"  
It took Bjorn a minute to realize what his father's friend had just said. "You mean you....um, then why didn't you ask me?"  
"What IS it with you Norse and allowing other men to pork your wives?" Aethelstan wailed. "I nearly soiled myself when your father tried to lure me into your mother's bed....no offense, but your Mum's a scary bitch and for all his good points Ragnar was a pig. You're a much better man than your father, Bjorn. That's why I agreed to stay and watch over you. When I met you and your sister, I thought 'their father's a prick and their mother is a flaming bitch, so SOMEBODY has to watch out for them, and so I have done in life and in death."   
"Well, seeing how I turned out you're probably ashamed of me," said Bjorn.  
"No, I'm not," said Aethelstan. "If it weren't for you the Aesir would still have the North in thrall."   
"Now that I'm dead, do I get to see Little Sigi again"  
Aethelstan shook his head. "She's taken another spin on the Wheel."  
"Where is she?"  
"Um..." said Aethelstan.  
"Just tell me," said Bjorn.  
"She was born into the Imperial family," Aethelstan said hesitantly. "They call her Zoe. Right now, she's eight years old, loves horses, and her last bodyguard just got sacked for teaching her how to fight with a sword."  
"She sounds adorable," said Bjorn. "I wish I had had the sense to be with her morn, and I wish I could see my next child."  
"You might," said Aethelstan. He smiled. "I asked to be reborn as your son. I'm going to be a ten-pound screamer with ginger hair and a fair complexion. You'll need to keep me out of the sunlight and away from the serving wenches when I'm bigger, or you'll be up to your funny-looking ears in ginger-haired bastard grandchildren before I'm twenty. And next to my twin sister, I'll bean absolute angel."  
"Well, we can't have you impregnating any serving wenches like I did," said Bjorn. "Poor Thorunn....her sweet ass and my raging libido caused us both a shitload of grief, didn't it?"   
Aethelstan nodded slowly.  
"Um Aethelstan," Bjorn asked "How exactly did I die?"  
"You had what will someday be known as a coronary infarction," said Aethelstan "caused by a blood clot lodged in one of the veins near your heart. The most likely cause would be a combination of genetics and too much processed meat."  
"I warned you about eating too many smoked meat sandwiches...." Nate added "But I confess I continued to make them for you."  
"At any rate,going back again is going to hurt like hell," said Aethelstan. "But if you wish, your chance comes in ten sexonds...nine....eight...seven...six...."  
There was a painful ringing in Bjorn's ears. "I guess I should go back," he said. Then fire raced through Bjorn's entire body as though he had been blitzed  
"...one!" said Aethelstan. "Don't say I didn't warn you!"

"We are doomed," said Uncle Maltiward as footsteps pounded over Little Sigi's Bridge overhead. "We're deader than the Heathobards."  
"Shhh!" whispered Cousin Tidwell. "They won't come down here and kill us if the don't hear us!"  
"This was a bloody stupid idea," said Cousin Torthelm. "I said so, but nobody listened to me.  
"Shut up," said Tidwell "and somebody please get that damned monkey to shut up too."  
Sister Peg tried to shove Nutmeg into her bag, but he escaped and fled. She was now stuck under the bridge with a score of her relatives who had sailed to King Bjorn's aid aboard Tidwell and Torthelm's little yellow trading cog Good ol' Frieda, which had been promptly reduced to a Yellow Submarine as soon as they reached Norway, and they had taken refuge under the bridge. Something with glowing yellow eyes had hissed at them in the shadows, startling Uncle Maltiward.  
"It's just a damn cat," said Tidwell. "Here, kitty kitty....!"  
Pangor Ban snarled. He was soaking wet and filthy, but otherwise unharmed.  
"Just where is this Bjorn Ironsides," said Great Aunt Apfelwiswin "so I can smack his face."  
"He's up on top of the bridge," said Sister Peg "and since he's close to seven feet tall, you probably wouldn't want to try hitting him because the only way you could reach was if he was siting down."  
"Well, someone hoist me up so I can see," said Great Aunt Apfelwiswin. "Come on!"  
Uncle Maltiward hoisted the tiny old lady onto his shoulders, and she cautiously peered upwards.  
"Well, if he's the one slumped over the railing, he don't look too good. Could he perhaps be that skinny old man with the eyeliner who's swinging that hammer and swearing?"  
"That would be Floki," said Peg.  
"There's also two big ugly monks and a little Jewish fellow with a large cleaver."  
"I'm not sure who they are, but if the man slumped over the parapet has clean fingernails and a long blond braid he might be Bjorn Ironside. Can anyone reach him and pull him down?"  
With considerable effort, the Cumberlingas reached up and dragged Bjorn over the railing, and in the confusion of battle no one else seemed to notice.  
"I think he's dead," said Sister Peg. "I can't find his pulse, nor is he breathing."  
"He ain't dead, he's just pining for the fjords...." said Tidwell.  
"Oh, shut up!" said Torthelm. "We're not going through that bit where you bought a parrot again!"  
At that moment, the Cumberlingas were distracted by something moving towards them on the river.  
"Holy shit," said Tidwell. "Is that a BEAR?"  
"No it ain't," said Torthelm. "It's a bearskin rug that someone tossed in the river. Keep away from it, it probably has bedbugs.  
"It's moving upstream," said Tidwell. "And it's looking straight at us..."  
Sister Peg pounded on Bjorn's chest in an effort to revive him. The bearskin's hindquarters lifted, and Kyllikylli Taapiolan grinned and waggled her fingers.  
"Hei hei, y'all. You might want to step away from the Big Guy, if his heart's stopped. I don't want to blitz the lot of you." Someone fell behind her and landed with a splash.  
"I think that's Nate," said the head of the bear. "He's got an arrow in his kidneys, so there's not a lot any of us can do for him."  
The Cumberlingas stared anxiously at Torvig, who lifted the bearskin's head and sighed.  
"My first husband got blood-eagled and I shot the second one," said Torvig. "So I know where a man's kidneys are."


	10. The Grand Imperial Princess of Byzantium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which this tale is concluded

Floki was glad to see Helga again, but in other respects he was in his own personal Hell, because he spent the trip to Caledonia aboard a Caledonian whaler with Aethelstan's relatives, and by the time they reached Port Mackenzie he was certain that his onetime foe had gone to Liindisfarne to get the hell away from them. "I'm up to my ears in Cumberlingas," he muttered, "and not the kind that I like!" He knew that the Aesir were in Valhalla and could not heed his prayers, but he would rather bite off his own member than pray to the one deity that he now KNEW existed.The Cumberlingas decamped with the Nasty Nun, Nutmeg, Queen Asslaug and a letter to the Abbess of St. Benedict on Cumberbach that ostensibly requested political asylum for the deposed Queen of Norway but was in fact a politely worded request to have her incarcerated until her sons agreed to negotiate terms of her release with their half-brother, but since then Floki had realized that he hated Celts almost as much as he hated Saxons, and Port Mackenzie was full of nothing but Celts, the kith and kin of William Lyon Mackenzie, King of the Islands, the Highlands, and a disputed area south of Hadrian's Wall, and after the Mackenzie clan had chased him away from their still Floki considered them a pack of utter bastards. He took to skulking around the yard where hulking Caledonian women engaged in various tasks that mostly involved seething foul-smelling substances in large copper vats, such as rendering whale oil, making soap, dying wool, and boiling kelp to make laverbread, which was a strange dark green substance that smelled like a whore's minge but was reputedly very nutritious and used in place of butter. The yard stank, but so did Floki's mood, though his mood improved a bit when he was told that Bjorn was recovering well enough to accept visitors. When Floki came to see him, Bjorn was sitting up in bed eating porridge, because Helga had taken pains to ensure that the dour crone in charge of the kitchens served the exiled King something other than a traditional Caledonian mixed grill for breakfast, because such a meal would probably stop Bjorn's heart again. He was surrounded by two wives, one ex-girlfriend, and one valued employee, and that damn cat of his sat at Bjorn's feet clean, fat, fluffy, and contentedly making a hash out of Bellona's knitting."Hullo, Bjorn," said Floki. "You seem fairly chipper for a man who's been deposed and forced to flee his home."  
"I'm just glad to be alive," said Bjorn "along with most of my friends, including you Floki." He suddenly reched up, grabbed Floki and kissed him on the forehead. "Aethelstan says hello, by the way. He says he's tired of waiting for you to croak, so he's taking another spin on the Wheel and begs that you don't try to throttle him in his cradle. I think I'm going to take over the Head Office in Byzantium, so you and Helga can find a nice little villa somewhere and retire. You're what....fifty? Fifty three?" Most people don't live as long as you have, Floki.  
"I'm only forty-nine," said Floki. "I'm not dead yet. What are you going to do about...Norway? I hope you eventually intend to release the Queen, because your brothers...."  
"My half-brothers will probably be set up as puppet kings by the Swedes," said Bjorn. "But they'll have a tough time ruling without my income from the Brute Squad, and sooner or later they'll have to deal with an insurrection of their own. They've all got admirable qualities, but they're not meant to be kings, and neither am I. I'm a business man, with a wife and a child or two on the way and I have to secure my interests for their sake."  
"You've got TWO wives," said Floki.  
Bjorn nodded. "I know. In fact, there's a very special job that I have in mind for Thorunn."

Grand Imperial Princess Zoe, the daughter of Emperor Basil II had had her bath and was ready for bed when the sinny old man who worked for the Varengian Company arrived with an extremely tall and slightly plump blond gentleman who smelled like spices and ambergris and a woman in a rather severe grey dress and a yashmak.  
"Come and meet your new nanny, Your Highness," said Floki "and my employer, Bjorn Ironside, formerly King of Norway."  
The big man waggled his fingers. "Don't be scared, only eat little girls if they're naughty. I just wanted to see you, and tell you that Nanny Thorunn has my personal reccomendation."  
Zoe giggled. "You're HUGE....was your daddy an elephant?"  
"No, your highness," said Bjorn. "His name was Ragnar Lothbrook, and he was from Norway."  
"Have you ever seen an elephant?" she asked.  
"No, but Nanny Thorunn has. She's traveled to India."  
"What happened to her face?"  
"I made a mistake, and she was badly hurt." said Bjorn.  
"I wear this so people won't be scared of me," Thorunn explained.  
"Please take it off," said Princess Zoe. "I want to see your face."  
Thorunn removed her yashmak.  
"You're not scary," said Princess Zoe. "Why are you crying?"  
"I'm crying because you remind me of my own little girl who died."  
"Did she make a mistake?" asked Zoe.  
"No, I did," said Bjorn. "I made a lot of stupid mistakes, and I'm sorry for them."  
"That's okay," said Princess Zoe. "Do you want to see my sword?" The little girl pulled an ancient Roman gladius out from under her mattress. It was shorter and lighter than a Viking longsword, and better suited for her small fram. "I call it Needle,. Don't tell Daddy I have it because he says I should not play with sharp objects. I have a horse, too. Her name is Athena and I'll take you to see her in the morning." She took Thorunn by the had and pattered off into her bedchamber, which (because she was an Imperial Princess) was decorated in white and pink marble and had gauze draperies that fluttered in the breeze that wafted in from the Black Sea."  
"You're smiling, Bjorn" said Floki. "It is good to see you happy."  
"Happiness is not important to me," said Bjorn. "At least not my own happiness. However, it feels good to set right the stupid mistakes I've made" He pulled a handkerchief out of his sleeve. "Floki....you're crying, and it's making your eyeliner run. You look terrible."  
Floki wiped his eyes and blew his nose and tried to hand the handkerchief back to Bjorn.  
"Keep it," said Bjorn. "Why do you wear that black shit around your eyes, Floki? It makes you look like a Lesbian book seller."  
"What have you got against people from Lesbos? asked Floki. "I hear it's a perfectly nice island!"


End file.
